The Story of Mirilendilme
by kyesophina
Summary: I never thought much about Legolas, but wondered if it was possible for an L&MS fic to escape prosecution by the CP... flame away if you like
1. The Origin of Mirilendur

_Introduction: This is the question I have posed to myself. With all the hooplah hype and controversy over these Legolas-romance MS stories, I began to wonder: is it possible for a Legolas-loves-Mary Sue story to win Grand Amnesty from the Supreme Court of Fanfiction? But flame away if you so please; it's certainly not my greatest work (if I will ever write my greatest work), and attempting to write viable inserts is much more challenging than it might seem at first (especially if you don't have the time and patience to master things like Elvish grammar). Though I seem to have succeeded in keeping her from classic MarySuedom, I'm sure this thing overall has some maturing yet to do. If you have any suggestions or nitpicks they are more than welcome… Perhaps I may come back and make this thing grow up a bit, in time.   
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Melwen & Mirilendilme are characters of my design, and also of my design is the marriage of Celebrimbor. If anybody knows who Malgalad's real wife was (or any other facts I may have gotten confused), feel free to tell me, though for the purposes of this story I may keep it this way.   
  
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**The Origin of Mirilendilme**  
  
  


  
  
Melwen was of the Dark Elves of Lorien of the First Age. Her mother was in origin an Silvan Elf of Northern Greenwood who had won the love of Malgalad, the King of Lorien. Melwen was so named because of her disarming and endearing nature. Though she befriended many and gave of her love freely, she gave a great and special loyalty to an exclusive few. One of these few, it happened, was none other than Celebrimbor - the very forger of the Rings of Power.   
  
Celebrimbor dwelt in Eregion, near to Lorien by an account of leagues as an eagle flies, but sundered by the great Misty Mountains. However he had often ventured into Mines of Moria, befriending the Dwarves; giving and receiving knowledge of their smithcraft. On occasion he would accompany the great Lady Galadriel through Moria on a visit to Lorien.   
  
Though Celebrimbor had an unrequited love for Galadriel, Melwen saw him and loved him; for as a Moriquende she was enamoured with the light of Valinor she saw in his pale eyes. He befriended her, and because she so nurtured the Noldorin fire within him, ere long her love found a place in his heart. He took her for his wife and returned to Eregion where she dwelt with him, though only a short time.   
  
Shortly before the invasion of Sauron, Melwen bore him a daughter, who was like to her father and his kin in looks (with her white skin, jet hair and pale eyes). And Melwen named her Mirilendilme because many Elves of Eregion remarked her to be the most precious jewel of Celebrimbor's making. Celebrimbor forged for her a dark and clear stone, like to the great Elessar of Galadriel but smaller and of far lesser power. But it would reflect the Sun's light as it were a lost Silmaril, shining from within the deeps of the sea.   
  
When news that Sauron's forces, stalled by Celeborn, were making for Eregion, Dwarves allowed for the refuge of Celebrimbor's family in Moria before the gates where shut (the rest of the Elves had fled north to Imladris). Melwen therefore returned by this way with her infant child to Lorien and awaited news of her husband. After nearly a year a Noldo soldier arrived, having come over a long road from Eregion by way of Imladris. Even as one of his high race, he looked weary with the horrors of war. To Celebrimbor he had been a brother by oath, and when she saw the grief in his eyes she knew. He had been sent on an errand to Imladris from the chambers of Celebrimbor's secret society of Elvensmiths even as Sauron descended upon it. And he came to her and bore his hand, and she looked down and saw the dark stone that her husband had carved for his daughter. "His last thoughts were of you," the soldier said, and handed to her also the Ringmaker's sword, which he had snuck back and retrieved from the doorstep ere he took off for Imladris. And Melwen stood and wept, and when her father was slain in the Battle of Dagorlad she and her mother (who forfeited any claim to Lorien as queen at the death of the king), forsook Lorien, and with her child they came to her mother's kin in King Thranduil's realm, in the north of Greenwood Forest.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Of Mirilendur and Legolas

  
  
  
  


**Of Mirilendilme and Legolas**  
  
  


  
  
Melwen, with her mother who was of Greenwood and whose father was King Malgalad that died alongside King Oropher at the assault on Mordor, was welcomed into the royal court by Oropher's heir, Thranduil. Here she raised her daughter Mirilendilme under the thick eaves of Greenwood the Great. Now young Mirilendilme, though she had some of the reservation of her mother's demeanor, bore more likeness to her father. The fire of her forefathers was manifested in her black hair and eyes pale as ice. She had some of the ambition and pride of the Noldor, and delighted in works of craft. And ever she felt a longing in her heart to return to the roads that ran over Middle-Earth, and also to find the Sea and thence find the West. And though her sire and his father had rebelled against the legacy of their forefather, Feanor, the curse of the Noldor that had rendered its destruction in ages past had haunted them, as some suspected it had also followed her.   
  
Of the traditional Silvan Elves under the governance of Thranduil, many had their personal judgments against the Eldar, and disapproved of young Mirilendilme. But she was accepted well by the children of the royal court, who would delight in the gifts of craft she would make for them. Since she had no metal to wrought as her father once had, with the wood of the forest she would make for them harps to play during the frequent festivities; and weapons, stronger than they were accustomed to, that they would practice with.   
  
Now well before Melwen and had come to the realm of Thranduil, his son Prince Legolas was born. Mirilendilme had long reached full height, and though she was still considered a youth by the standard of Elves, she built up a mind to go forth from the hidden seclusion of Thranduil's realm. But then she beheld the child prince, and even from the first she was so touched by his beauty, and the gentleness she could see in his heart, that for a long while she forsook her desire to leave. And thus she stayed while he swiftly grew. Often he would be left in her care, but she had no complaint; reveling in the honor of protecting the treasure of the King and his people.   
  
Now like his people young Legolas was fun-loving and high-hearted and light in spirit, but unlike many he was one of few Dark Elves of Greenwood who had love for the Sun. He delighted greatly when Mirilendilme, of a like mind toward the Sun, would take him out to venture through the woods by day, when they could behold the sunlight sparkling green through the high leaves of the trees. And though like his people he was less ambitious and content with his home, he was delighted also by the stories she told of the Eldar legends from ages past. Constantly as a child he would ask her questions of her forefathers and of the Elves of the West - question after question until he fully understood the answer; for he was ever fascinated by the light of the West that shined in the Eldar as it did in her. So much like her mother, she thought, who had similarly been so captivated by her father the Noldo.   
  
The long years of the Third Age rolled by, and the children of Greenwood went out into the woods less and less as the Shadow of Dol Guldur grew thick over the Forest, which had long earned the nickname Mirkwood by the neighboring settlements of Mortal Men. The King had withdrawn his kingdom far to the northeastern corner of the great wood, and had built underground halls of stone for his people to protect from the ever-growing threat of Enemies (Mirilendilme had been present when the company of Dwarves were imprisoned, though at the time she could give no council to the King). But a few years after the Quest for Erebor, they began to receive more frequently the grim news of the rising power of the Dark Lord affecting the neighboring kingdoms. Finally when the prisoner of Aragorn escaped during the attacks of the Orcs, Thranduil appointed his son as ambassador to Imladris.   
  
At this Mirilendilme grieved, and feared for her dear friend. She had been as a guardian over the prince for so long, and could hardly bear the thought of not going with him (especially considering the dubious condition of the Misty Mountians), and offered to at least join his escort to the Eastern Slopes until he and his small company finally parted over the High Pass. But at the request of her mother, who had lost so many of her closest kin, the King would not allow it, assuring that his son would not likely be gone for so long. But Mirilendilme had inherited, and learned from her childhood in Lorien, some wisdom and foresight of the Eldar. She realized the grand scope of danger of the ever-growing Shadow of the wide world and felt a foreboding of doom; and feared for the Prince's safe return. Therefore she came to him, late in the summer on the eve of his departure under the canopy of Mirkwood, not far from the gates of Thranduil's halls, and said, "Legolas, I must now bid you farewell."   
  
And he said, "Yes, dear friend, I must venture into the peril of the wide world. I, too, am saddened to part, though I look forward to witnessing the beauty of Imladris. But be not sorrowful! I should not be gone so long."   
  
"So your father says," she replied. Her face grew solemn. "But I know of the world beyond Greenwood Forest, and of the horrors inflicted by the Shadow on the peoples of Middle-Earth. It cannot be underestimated. And I have a foreboding of doom upon the house of Thranduil."   
  
Legolas wondered at her words, and the graveness in her face. To the prince, she seemed grow in stature, standing tall and true with the wisdom of the Elves of the West in her words. "Have faith!" he struggled to whisper. "I shall be kept safe by these strong weapons which you have carved for me. And I have a mind to return as soon as I can." He was silent for a moment and then said, "Is this doom what you see for me? Or for our people?"   
  
"I do not know," she said, "That unknowledge is what I fear." Then her face softened. "Before you leave, these words I say to you as a gift in parting. For long years we have grown together, my friend. As a youth I have loved you as a sister loves her sibling, and have guarded you as a mother who loves her child. I have grown with you, and watched you grow, Legolas the Fair." Then, thinking of Celebrimbor her father, and Galadriel her kin, she said, "It seems ever that to the proud and mighty of my kin those of yours shall be their weakness, for I love you now, as a woman loves a man. This is my gift; may it help you upon your perilous errantries, if you so wish to take it."   
  
For a long moment the prince stood silent, looking at her in amazement. At first he was uncertain to react, but then it seemed as though a veil of shadow, a shadow of unknowing, had been lifted from his face. Then he said, "My Mirilendilme, ever have I had love for the trees under the daylight, and for the awesome beauty of the Sun. The Sun! The sun that I see in your eyes, which have held my heart arrested in their light for as long as I can remember. I will take this gift, and treasure it. May it bring me comfort in times of sorrow! May it bring me back to you, ere long." And they embraced in parting, and he returned to his halls.   
  
Mirilendilme then sat with unrest in thought in her chambers, with the fair stone of her father in hand. By morning she had resolved to lend it to Legolas. For if she could not go with him it would give, to her at least, some assurance, for it had some power that might help protect him, and perhaps gain him entry to the vigilantly protected havens such as Lorien if the need came. She came to the King's private halls, only to find that the Prince had set off long before dawn. Now the King had learned of the love Mirilendilme had for his son, and he was pleased. For she was on the same footing as the Prince, being the granddaughter of a Sindarin King. But he said nothing, for Thranduil understood the universal need of the side of good for upmost secrecy, and had sent the Prince off with a small company during the night. Mirilendilme understood the motives of her King, and the need now for the Prince to now assume the role of ambassador. Still she grieved again, and went into the woods, as though she had a mind to follow him. But she did not, and wandered aimlessly under the eaves of the forest, in the company her distressed thoughts and distant memories.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. FateCalls

  
  
  
  
  


**The Turn of Fate**  
  
  
  


  
  
Mirilendilme wandered for a couple of days in the woods. Her path veered southward and westward, though she paid little heed to her direction. She walked in a confusion as thoughts and feelings arose in her from all directions. She thought of many things; the Prince and the Greenwood Elves, and of the Darkness seeking dominion over all of Middle-Earth. She thought of her own origins, rooted in Lorien and Eregion; and her thoughts came to her father. Her father! The story of whose torment and death at the hands of the Dark Lord himself would chill the heart of even the most weathered warrior.   
  
She halted in her tracks in the middle of one night at what sounded like laughter. It would sound for but a moment, and then after a long silence it would sound again. Then it stopped. She froze; her wariness having suddenly jumped to its peak. For it was not the chiming laughter of Elves. There was a fell presence lurking in the shadows, and for a moment she wondered if it could be the emissaries of the Dark Lord, that had been reported searching the northern vale of the River Anduin earlier in the season. She strung an arrow to her bow, even though that would not likely hinder the wraiths of mortal men. There was no moon that night, and under the Shadow of Mirkwood at that hour it was difficult even for an Elf to see as far as usual. Then the laughter turned to shouts. Several, hideous cries; calling from one side of her to the other. She turned and ran with all speed back to her Kingdom. For a very long time she ran. And as she darted back through the woods, she wondered if it was simply her presence that had aroused these predators. She halted and listened, wondering if she had yet lost them. For a long moment it was silent, then suddenly she heard the crunch of leaves and branches under heavy feet growing closer. She resumed her flight, reaching the King's halls a few hours before sunrise. Her command opened the gates and she flew in like the wind, bewildering the guards by the door. "Yrch!" she cried. Now with all haste she summoned the guards, and several others in the halls who had heard her cry. There was no time to consult the King, but she set a group to the gates, inside and out, and led the rest of the guards and their captain back out into the woods in the direction she had come from.   
  
Now the hastily assembled company of about sixteen had set out into the woods. After a short spurt of speed back through the forest, she counseled them to spread out and move forward together in a long and spaced-out horizontal line, arched so that they could close a ring more easily if need be, with their arrows strung. Less than a league from the King's halls they met the company of Orcs in this manner, who numbered only about thirty; still too many for Mirilendilme to have faced alone. But this band of Orcs, undoubtedly out of the southern part of the Forest, were still of the lesser breed and had simply been out hunting (though also daring to come so close to the King's borders). They were astonished to suddenly see the organized company of Elves before them. Mirilendilme stood in the line near the Elven Captain. In a panic the Orcs scrambled to ready their weapons. But the Captain gave his signal, and the Elven arrows flew even before the Orcs could string their bows. Half of the Orcs were slain in this way, and the rest fled in dismay.   
  
  
  
  
  


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When the company arrived home, well after sunrise, everyone was now well aware of what was going on. The King had already mustered a troop before the gates, ready for dispatch. But the Captain counseled that there was no need; for it had been merely a rogue band of hunting Orcs. Still, Mirilendilme, with the Noldorin soldier of her blood that had now been stirred up within her, counseled with haste and passion that the King assign rings of guards to the forest. The first to stand immediately around the halls, and the next two progressively further outward. And lastly to keep outposts off the far reaches of the Kingdom. As she spoke the light grew in her eyes, and the King listened to her in wonder, and to the Captain's faith in her counsel. But he still was reluctant to assign her a position of power, either in the guard or in the court; for many of his people were still wary of her as a child of the Western Elves, and as one not native to their land.   
  
But Mirilendilme understood the King's prudence and was not disappointed or angered. For because of her love of the Prince, and for love of her native lands and because she had recently grown hot over the story of her father's death, she had a desire to partake in the events of the peoples of Middle-Earth against the Shadow of Sauron. Therefore her final counsel was to deploy an embassy to Lorien. And the King agreed, and her mother Melwen knew now that her daughter would not waylay any longer by counsel or force. So she was chosen as ambassador to Lorien. And an embassy of Elves was assembled for her with relative ease; for there were many of like mind to her that had also lost their fathers and forefathers at the Battle of Dagorlad, and wished to go forth from Thranduil's halls into the south.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Southward

_***I must apologize for my rudimentary Elvish names; I figured I should give at least some of them names and all I had to go by is my trusty Silmarillion appendix. _   
  
  
  
  
  
  
**The Warrior Awakens**  
  
  
  
Mirilendilme did not leave right then; for it was not necessary to go straight away. Having assumed the role of ambassador she first went on an errand to visit both Dale and Erebor, taking the initiative to pledge the allegiance of Thranduil to the good peoples of Middle-Earth. She returned and stayed in Mirkwood a while longer to counsel the Captain of the guard in the establishment of fences of security guards around the kingdom. This plan proved helpful, for with the outposts furthest from the Halls of Thranduil they were able to keep updated on the neighboring movements of Orcs and other enemies, and more readily receive news of the outside world.   
  
The King also took her counsel to begin the building of a large supply of weapons and the preparation of an army. In the precious few peaceful moments she now had, Mirilendilme pondered the peaceful bliss of her girlhood, which she had relished for a long age, and which was now fading swiftly into her distant memory. The stern sense of duty that called to her Noldorin spirit somehow brought her comfort, as though she had been waiting all her life for the moment of the Orc attack after the Prince's departure. The Prince! She wondered how he fared in the halls of Elrond, and wished she could be there with him.   
  
Autumn began to wane, and the preludes to winter came gusting in from the North. Then in early December the news came. The Prince would not be returning. He was to be sent South with a small company on a hopeless yet fateful errand, evidently carrying the only hope left for the victory of Middle-Earth over the Dark Lord. Mirilendilme wept, wondering if this was the doom she foresaw. She thought of her father, and the rings he had helped to forge, and of his rebellion against Sauron and repentance to Galadriel and the Elves, when he learned of the One. The One Ring! Surely this was the topic at hand in the House of Elrond. But of these things Mirilendilme spoke only to her mother, who herself had only learned of them from Galadriel after Celebrimbor's death. Now Mirilendilme truly wished she had gone with Legolas; King's permission or no. She would've gone in his stead, to Imladris and most certainly on this journey to the South. That was not a job to be laid so unjustly upon a Sindarin Prince, she thought; responsibilty belonged to her father (at least in part), and vengeance belonged to her. This was her sign. The time had come at last to leave.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Going South**  
  
  
  


  
Now, to Mirilendilme's surprise there were many Elves of Mirkwood of a like mind willing to go with her; more than she had expected. She did not need a very large party, so in a speech to them she emphasized the need for their valor at home, where their duty truly lay. Thus she was able to trim the number of down to ten, though still twice more than the party of five she had planned on. Perhaps it was just as well, she thought, that there was a larger party to distract enemy attention from Legolas' company, set to journey the other side of the mountains.   
  
Her mounted company set out west through Mirkwood; reaching the edge of the forest in a week. From there they headed south toward the Old Ford. For a while, even riding through the open fields and thin woods, they found no danger, and even met a couple of the Beornings. She was comforted greatly to learn they kept safe passage over the Road and the High Pass.   
  
They rode southward, with the jagged peaks of the Misty Mountains against their western horizon. In the still moments of dawn Mirilendilme took joy in the rising sun that would light the snow-capped tops ablaze in the dimness of early morning like the stars lit the night sky. The frosts of early December in the Vale of Anduin lay about them in a dreamlike silence. Mirilendilme found it disturbing at times, as it was so quiet that it seemed that, with the exception of the Beornings, all creatures for miles around that may have dwelled there had long cleared the area or lay under the ground, hiding. Surely this was the result of the Dark Lords emissaries who had spent weeks searching the Vales earlier in the year.   
  
They passed the Carrock, and crossed the Old Ford without difficulty. She led her company as close to the river as possible; knowing that the mountains were the abode of many fell creatures. They soon came to the Gladden River, which Mirilendilme had forgotten, and had not paused to consider. The junction of the Anduin and the Gladden was certainly no place to cross, especially not with horses, and they had no choice but to head up river toward the mountains. It took them a several days to reach a place suitable to cross, having dismounted when the foothills became hard to manage. When the sun set on the third day and they continued walking their horses into the night. Through the days, the Elves had taken to singing to cheer themselves in the disturbing silence of the lonely hills. But Mirilendilme bade them silent that night; worried by the looming and infamous peril of the Misty Mountains. Soon the others felt it too; the presence of fell creatures not far away. They came to a bluff over which the river swiftly passed, maybe forty feet in height; and hoped that its preceding waters would be shallow enough to cross. But it was widely surrounded by vertical faces of rock and steep hillsides, and they had to turn northward and hike the long way in order to reach the top. An hour later they were steadily ascending the hill, alongside a thick wood that rose up the Eastern Slopes. They all had been growing ever more wary; hearing less than they could see. Suddenly, from out of nowhere it seemed, a noise whirred through them. Mirilendilme's head jerked up in a start toward the woods. "Yrch!" cried Sirendil, the Elf of the guard whom she had appointed second in command. An Orc arrow had flown straight across his face; missing his nose by a hair.   
  
"To arms!" she cried. Faster than any mortal could reckon their arrows were strung, as they peered into the darkness for a target. Suddenly a rain of arrows flew toward them; past them and over their heads. Now Orcs could see as well as Elves in the dark, and Mirilendilme guessed they must have been just within range – just far enough to more easily miss their targets so sorely. But each Elf was quick enough to pick out an arrow as it flew toward them and shoot in the direction it came. In this way they seemed to have felled several, for their response was quickly followed by dreadful shrieks, then a series of shouts. "Ride! Ride!" Mirilendilme called, and swiftly they all mounted and made for the river.   
  
The Orcs were on the chase. Several poured down the hill out of the thick wood. The Elves turned from where they sat upon their horses (who were making for the river in a fright), and spent many arrows in a few short moments; slaying many. One of the company was shot in the arm, and another's horse, the horse of Galadhel at the rear, was shot in the leg. The company had finally reached the river when the howls of wolves broke the sky. The sound was piercing. "Ai! The Wargs!" said Sirendil, "Hurry!"   
  
"Iluvatar be merciful!" said Mirilendilme, dismayed to have to wade their horses carefully across the river one by one. However most of the Wargs seemed preoccupied with the Orcs (most of whom scattered at the howls). But several Orcs still remained on their trail, and they came and surrounded Galadhel, who, at the rear of the company, was in the midst of crossing the river. Fortunately Wargs also had a hatred for Orcs (at least on this side of the mountains, where they weren't at the command of the wolfriders) and preyed upon them as they did upon the good peoples they found wandering the mountains. Before his Elf companions could even fire at them, four wolves came up the path behind them and broke into the besiegers, and spared Galadhel from death by Orc. But once they had all been slain the Wargs turned on him. The horse continued to reverse in fear, surrounded. One wolf leapt at him, but straight away five of the company from the other side of the river shot their arrows and slew him as he flew. Even as he was slain two others were backing Galadhel's horse, who was bucking and neighing wildly in his defense, toward the edge. The Elves shot at them also, but with not enough time. "Galadhel, jump!" shouted Mirilendilme, and the Elf sprung from his horse as the wolves sprang their final attack, and the three beasts fell over the bluff to the bottom. The last wolf was slain as Galadhel took a seat behind his nearest companion. The cold shrill cries again grew near. Another pack burst out of the woods from on the other side of the river when the company took off. For a good while the Wargs kept up the chase, snipping at the heels of the last Elf's horse. But ere long they were outrunning the Wargs by far. Like a gale they galloped southward, and did not stop until morning.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Lorien

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Lorien**  
  
  
  
  


  
Several days later Mirilendilme and her company had reached Lothlorien. It had been nearly a month since they left Thranduil's halls. After their incident in the foothills, and the long lonely days in the colds of the new year upon the fields were few creatures now lived, glad they were to be welcomed to Lorien. Gildulin who had been wounded by an Orc arrow (which fortunately had not been poisoned), was taken for healing, and the rest came to Caras Galadhon before the Lord and Lady. Though the name of her father had the Lady's respect, less forgiving was Celeborn's judgment. "Grievous are the innumerous woes wrought by your forefathers. What hope did you think to bring to us? Were it my decision I would not allow you a part in this war against Gorthaur; I am wary even to trust your presence here."   
  
"I understand. But judgement, my Lord, I think is something you have not earned," she said. "Is not your own wife a daughter of the Noldor? Close in kin to the troublemakers of Arda as you would call them? Is not my mother of your own kin?"   
  
Galadriel interrupted. "Judge a child not by the actions of her predecessor! Or any Elf by the actions of his father. For here she is right - if you judge those by the deeds of their kin then you are also obliged to judge your own."   
  
Celeborn then apologized, and offered his aid. Mirilendilme and her Elves took their leave to rest and acquaint themselves with the fair land of her childhood (and of the kin of many of the others), though fairer it seemed than she had remembered it. Soon thereafter the Lady brought Mirilendilme to her mirror, in which she saw much concerning her father, and her forefathers in ages past, and the Rings of Power. There came a vision of the land that her father had once governed, Eregion, but long abandoned and in ruin. But she suddenly spied a small company of travelers walking through it, and she wondered.   
  
The Lady also gave her the heirlooms that she had held in secret for a long time. The first was a sword; wrought by her father's own hands. "It was neglected during the plunder of the Dark One," she said. There seemed to be movement in the darkness of its sheath, for it seemed as though the smooth waters of a deep river were rushing over it. The sword itself was mighty and long, with the same stones of the Three (ruby, adamant and sapphire), in the hilt. Black was its blade, though it would gleam like bright gold and silver when wielded or commanded.   
  
Boots, and a short cape, all dark as the sword's sheath. Galadriel pulled out a coat of mail. "Galvorn it is called," she said. "It is like the prized mithril of both the Dwarves and Elves, yet shining black as jet. It was given unto your father by Narvi of the Dwarves of Hadhodrond. To them it had been passed from their kin of the Ered Luin of Old, who had received it from the Dark Elf Eol who wrought it."  
  
Mirilendilme thanked the Lady and retired to a large, multi-layered flet that had been prepared for her. It even had a sheltered enclosure constructed around most of it. She was very grateful for such a moment of peace, for even Elves can grow weary in such worrisome times.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**The Battle Under the Trees**  
  
  
  
  
The news came to Lorien in the middle of the night, just as January had passed its peak. Mirilendilme lay in light rest in the way of the Elves in her chambers when she was roused by a growing commotion. Coming out into the open she soon learned that a strange company found up the Nimrodel were currently hunted by a legion of Orcs. Her heart sank and leapt at the same time. The Prince was in trouble. And so was the Ring. She fetched her sword (and her bow and quiver) and forgetting all else sped down from her flet to join the mustering at the borders, where some of her own company had already joined at the rear. Ere long they were off through the woods in the dark night. She worked her way up to the front, where she found Sirendil already marching, calling out that there were enough Elves to split the lot into two halves. The leader needed little persuasion for that; though he was certainly surprised when he finally turned and found that this counsel had come from a young maiden, looking like one of the Lady's handmaids in their lovely robes. But he knew well who she was; seeing the light against her black hair and the weapons hastily strewn about her. Then one saw her bare feet and laughed. "It seems this evening is full of strange sights and surprises, my Lady, daughter of the Noldorin warriors!" he said. "My name is Haldir. Come, you shall join my half. But please," he said with a smile as he cast a grey cloak about her, "do not counsel strategy if you would defeat it yourself by calling the enemy's attention with bright raiment!"   
  
"Of course," Mirilendilme whispered, regretting that she had not stopped to change out of the rich robes she had received. They crossed over the Celebrant. The left half she went with as it peeled off to the west to meet the onslaught while the right half continued straight so to close them in from the north. Her half swiftly crept in stealth diagonally south and west to route the Orcs in the direction of the other flank. They jumped out from the woods upon the Orcs who were passing them by, and Mirilendilme found them a bit more of a challenge than the rogue hunters she encountered back in Mirkwood. There were a great deal more of them, and they were wild with fury and lust for vengeance. Still they were surprised greatly by the Elves, who also were a lot more than she had with her in Mirkwood, and with far stronger weapons. The Orcs at first fought hard, and the arrows flew. Of the Elven arrows Mirilendilme marveled at their far range and accuracy. Mirilendilme drawing her sword went at those who came near, and the terrible Western light gleaming from her black sword dismayed her enemies. Soon the Elven troops were driving them back.   
  
These Orcs were hardy fighters, however, and the Elves had been pushing them back slowly and inconsistently for long when the northern flank finally came upon the Orcs from the rear. Thus at last they were sandwiched, and fled to either opening as the walls came together. Suddenly more Elves that had issued out after them from across the river came in, reinforcing the lines and and closing the eastern opening so the only escape for their enemies was back to the West. In this way nearly all of the Orcs were slain. The few that were left were pursued or left to run in shame back to Moria.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. ExpectedCompany

  
  
  
  


**Old Friends & New Friends**  
  
  
  


  
Mirilendilme reached Caras Galadhon, shortly after noon the follwing day, where she learned of the hunted company in more detail from the Elf Lords of the troop last night. It in fact was the Prince who was among them, the only Elf in a company of eight, and the Lord and Lady were informed of their blindfolding. Straight away the Lady sent the order to free their restraints, though the Lord Celeborn was worried. But Mirilendilme was not content to sit in anxious anticipation and wait for the new visitors. So, she made her way to Cerin Amroth, arriving late in the afternoon just as the visitors were preparing to move on to the high hall of the Lord and Lady. Haldir saw her when she approached. "Here, my friends," he said, "is another of our guests. She came with a small company of her own from the north not even three weeks ago." He proceeded to introduce the company to her.   
  
"Greetings, friends!" she said, looking among them. "May you all find here a moment of peace amid your perilous journey. My name is Mirilendilme, daughter of Celebrimbor of Old, and of Melwen daughter of Malgalad."   
  
"Celebrimbor," said Boromir. "The Ringmaker?"   
  
"Yes," she said gravely, and Boromir only nodded and looked down to wander in his thoughts, and the rest said nothing. She saw Legolas, who was watching in surprise and wonder, and gave him a look of greeting. "Legolas," she said after a long pause. "What an honor to see a fellow countryman so far from home."   
  
"Indeed," he said. He turned and explained to his companions, "Mirilendilme is of my father's court, though she came from Lorien long ago. So it seems to her country she has actually returned," he said and turned to her.   
  
She simply smiled in reply, then turned to the Dwarf. She unhooked her sword from her side and held it planted as it were a flagstaff, and knelt before him. "Greetings my good Dwarf! Alas that the ancient strife remains between those of our kin! This will not do at all. May I say that no ill will did my father or any Elf of Eregion ever bear to those of your kin," she said, bowing, "the Dwarves of Khazad-Dum."   
  
Aragorn smiled; and the rest watched in intrigue, glad that someone had come to offer such amends to the poor Dwarf. Legolas - whose forefathers, the Princes of Beleriand, had suffered the wrath of the Dwarves long ago - stood watching her in surprise, and looked over at Gimli in wonder. Gimli was cheered by her words. A flattered smile broke on the face of the Dwarf, who bowed in return and whispered, "At your service, my Lady!" The Elves who stood by were indeed surprised at this strange Elf who would humble herself so for the sake of a Dwarf.   
  
A hobbit stepped forward suddenly and spoke. "Begging your pardon, my Lady," he said, "but whose fault was it anyway?"   
  
For a long moment she was silent, taken aback by such an imposing question. But one of the others had quickly turned to hush him. At last she said, "Lord Took, I would not bother with such things, if this war is to be won. In truth, they were both wrong. Though if there is still need to assign blame, then blame I suppose would go to me. For it was my sire's forefathers who had cursed themselves and all the world with them." The hobbit dipped his head and stepped back.   
  
"My Lady," said Aragorn. "I know all too well of carrying the burden of one's forefathers. But heed your own advice! If you are not to blame then you musn't then blame yourself."   
  
Then she smiled softly. "Come! Enough of such talk in the open," she whispered, turning to walk ahead of them, "they are waiting. Lead on, Haldir!"   
  
Legolas, changing the subject in his mind, stepped up to walk aside her. Though for a while they all walked in silence. At last he said quietly, "I did say I would be led back to you ere long, but this is not what I expected."   
  
"Nor I," she replied. "But fate pulls us all in directions unlooked for."   
  
"Well said!" he said softly. "Nor always unwelcome."   
  
"Indeed," she replied, and said no more until after the Company's meeting with the Lord and Lady.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
